Chapter 1014 - Ch: 18-20

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN –

Honks and Heirs

It took two days for Harry to convince the evil queen of medicine to let him out of the Hospital Wing. As usual, she'd fussed over him enough to fill his year's quota of 'mothering', and his taste-buds were currently on strike, in protest to all the vile concoctions he'd been forced to swallow. Shortly after getting his release orders, he'd dressed and run out of the hospital wing leaving a small cloud of dust floating after himself.

He belted down the corridor, fleeing for his life. He pulled to a stop when he sensed someone ahead of him. He crept up, and peered round the wall, hearing the soft fwump of a body hitting the ground.

"Bugger!" A soft feminine voice said softly. Stifling a giggle, Harry stepped out into the corridor, and extended a hand.

"Can I help you, Miss?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly with the force of laughter.

The girl looked up, to see the famous Harry Potter stood over her. Her face erupted into a fierce blush that crept up to her hairline. She reached out and took the hand, levering herself to her feet. "Thanks." When she was back on her feet, she looked down, embarrassed.

Harry picked up on this. "Don't worry about tripping, Miss." He said, looking at the ground. "It's a tricky piece of floor, that. Deceptively... flat, and unimpeded."

The girl looked at him, a fierce glare. "Thanks." She spat.

"I'm Harry." Harry said, holding out his hand again. "Harry Potter."

"Oh, please." The girl said. "Like there's someone in this school who doesn't know who you are." She pumped his hand once. "I'm Tonks."

Harry bit back a small gasp of shock. He knew Tonks was a seventh-year while he was a firstie, but he'd never have guessed that this girl was Tonks. He looked her up and down. She was short, standing about five feet and two inches, an inch shorter than himself, with soft blue eyes and buttery blonde hair. She was clad in the standard robes of a Hufflepuff student, but he had to admit; they looked a damned sight better on her than they did on anyone else. She looked adorable.

"Tonks..." Harry looked puzzled for a moment. "Wait a minute... are you that girl who hates her name? 'She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named'?"

Tonks barked out a short laugh. "Is that what they're calling me now?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. A group of fifth-years said that you'll hex anyone who calls you..." Harry stopped just before saying her name. Tonks' hand inched a little closer to her wand. "By your first name."

Tonks nodded once, allowing her hand to drop back to her side. "You've got that right, kid."

"Hey! Don't call me 'kid'!" Harry retorted. "Nymphadora."

Tonks pulled her wand, and launched a tickling hex at Harry, who quickly dodged to the side. She snarled gently at him, before placing her wand back in her robes. "Don't call me Nymphadora!" She snapped, her hair changing colour to a blood red, a sort of biological red-alert sign.

Harry just held up his hands. "Okay... sorry." He glanced back at the floor. "So, why'd you trip?"

She blushed again, and mumbled something.

"What?" Harry asked, placing his hand behind his ear and cupping. "Didn't quite catch that."

"I said," Tonks enunciated, "that I'm a bit clumsy."

"Oh." Harry asked, peering intently at her. "Is it true what they say about you?"

Tonks blushed, and hung her head in shame, thinking back to all the rumours that had been floating around about her Metamorphic abilities and the possibilities for sexual fantasies. "What is it they say about me?" She asked glumly.

Harry grinned. "They say you have the ability to fall over a stray particle of thin air." She looked up at him, glaring for a moment, before she relented and nodded. Harry just stared at her for a moment, before letting out a slight growl, and pulling his wand. "Wait a minute! What are you?" He snapped suddenly. "You are not what you appear to be! What are you?"

Tonks took a step back, stumbled over a dust-mite, and fell onto her arse. With a squeak, she tried to pull herself to her feet. The tip of Harry's wand, glowing red with a stunning charm, stopped her.

"W-What do you mean?" Tonks stammered.

Harry's voice had turned as cold as ice. "You... you have active magic running through you. It appears to be some kind of glamour, but more complex. This is not your real appearance." Harry said. "What are you? A Death Eater? Are you here for the stone? Hoping to return your master back to power?"

"What?" Tonks just stared at him.

"What is your mission?" Harry roared. Tonks' jaw flapped a couple of times. "Answer me!"

"What is going on here?" A new voice called out. Harry turned his head slightly, seeing Professor McGonagall approaching quickly, with Hermione at her side. Harry held up his hand, forming a shield between the approaching ladies and the fallen Tonks.

"I'll be happy to explain in a moment, Professor." Harry said, not taking his attention away from Tonks. "You never answered the question, 'Tonks'."

Tonks scrunched up her face, releasing her Metamorphic energy. Her body change, growing several inches taller, her face changing to a cute heart shape, and her hair lengthening and turning black.

"Bellatrix..." Harry snarled, repositioning his wand.

"No." McGonagall commanded firmly. "Mr. Potter, stop this at once! That is Nymphadora Tonks."

Harry turned his head slightly. "Then why was she disguised, ma'am?" Harry said brusquely.

"Er..." Tonks cleared her throat nervously. "I'm a Metamorph. I have the ability to change my physical form."

"Then why disguise yourself?" Harry snapped.

Tonks blushed, her face and hair turning red. "Well... as you said... I look a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange. She's my Aunt. So, I change what I look like, so people don't know that little bit of gossip."

Harry lowered his wand. "Ah." He looked down at the ground, face heating up with a blush and sheepish expression. "Sorry, Miss Tonks."

The shield stopping McGonagall and Hermione dropped. Hermione dashed forward, wrapping Harry in a firm Hermi-hug. "Harry, are you okay? You've been in the Hospital Wing for two days."

I deserve an Oscar for that acting. Harry thought idly, while hugging Hermione. I already knew she looked like the Bella-bitch, but, damn! And what better way to introduce myself to Tonks than threatening to kill her? Academy awards, here we come...

"I'm fine, thanks, Hermione." Harry said softly. He pulled away from Hermione, and extended a hand to Tonks. "I really am sorry about that." He hauled the blushing metamorph to her feet. She changed her form, back to the short blonde.

"I'm curious, Mr. Potter," McGonagall spoke up, "how you knew that young Miss Tonks was not what she appeared to be."

Crap... never thought of that. I knew I wanted to meet her, get properly introduced, but I didn't want to do it in front of a teacher."Uh... I don't know, Professor. I just... I just knew that something wasn't right."

"So you felt the need to denigrate her in public?" McGonagall snapped.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know what she was, Professor. For all I knew, she could have been a Death Eater in disguise. I thought it best to show a little vigilance."

"Oh, lord..." McGonagall muttered. "It's another Moody." She cleared her throat. "I assume you will not be harassing Miss Tonks again?"

"No, Professor." Harry replied, smiling innocently. Not for a good... three years or so. Then, however, she's fair game for harassment. He he. Hang on... I'm thinking the words for a giggle, rather than just giggling? Oh, lordy, what did I drink in the hospital wing? I blame Pomfrey, using Snape's potions. Snort. Oh, god, I'm doing it again. He tried snorting, and found his nose stubbornly refusing. I'm broken. Oh, when I get through with the creator, we'll be having words...

"Very well." McGonagall stalked off, muttering something about 'constant vigilance'. Harry turned back to Tonks, holding out his hand.

"My apologies again, Miss Tonks." She took his hand. "Maybe I'll see you around at some point."

"Maybe." Tonks replied, stalking away, muttering about insane celebrities.

Harry turned back to Hermione. "Is everyone gonna walk off muttering from me today?" He asked. Hermione grinned at him, and started to walk away, muttering about egotistical prats. "Hermione?"

When he caught up with her, they carried on their conversation. "So, are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione asked tenderly. "That injury looked pretty nasty."Harry snorted. "Without that Quidditch armour you bought, it would probably have snapped my spine, Hermione." He said. "So, thank you, once again, for getting me a great Christmas present."

"But you're sure you're okay?" She asked, grasping his hand and pulling him to a halt.

"I'm fine, now." Harry said, squeezing her hand gently. "All better. Best of all, that injury sorted out my back problems. Feel good now."

"Prat." Hermione snorted, starting up again and giving his hand a tug. "I've been thinking more about the Stone."

Harry debated the idea of hiding behind a statue of armour and make a 'oh no, Hermione's thinking' joke, but decided that he really didn't want to be put back in the hospital wing straight away, so just nodded. "Me, too. Doesn't it seem curious that it's been brought to the school now?"

"Frankly, yes." Hermione replied, her face scrunching up as she worked her way through it. "There's no reason to bring it to Hogwarts. Why would you hide a Stone at a school?"

"I have a better question." Harry said. "Why would you bring a dangerous and highly magical artefact into a school, when there have been rumours about Voldemort trying to regain his old strength? Surely it would be better to simply hide it under a Fideliusor a blood ward somewhere. Why hide it up on the third floor, and then tell four hundred students not to go there?

"Dumbledore has to know that by telling kids not to go somewhere, he's gonna make the kids go there. It just doesn't make any sense to me."

"He must have a reason." Hermione said softly, uncertainly.

"I believe that." Harry replied firmly. "The question is: What is the reason? Is it a test of the school defences? Can they withstand Voldemort? Is it a test of the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived'? A test of teacher loyalties? Is it all a coincidence?"

"I don't believe in coincidence." Hermione said, slowing down. "But, it could be any one of the others."

"I do believe in coincidence." Harry said, pulling her to a halt. "Coincidences happen every day. Is this one?" He bit on his lip for a moment, then carried on walking. "I just wish there was some way to use that bloody 'Heir' status."

"'Heir'?" Hermione asked. "What does that mean?"

Shit... I really need to start remembering that this is not my Hermione. Ideally at some point before 7th year. "Uh... Heir of Hogwarts?" He replied uncertainly.

"You're an Heir of Hogwarts?" Hermione asked dramatically. "Wow!"

Harry pulled her to a stop again. At this rate, we'll never get back to the bloody common room. "Why are you 'wow'ing, Hermione?"

"Don't you know what that means?" She squealed.

"Yes, I do know. Do you?" He replied.

She was about to answer... then shook her head. "No. What does it mean?"

Harry sucked air through his teeth for a moment, before grinning sheepishly. "Hmm, tough question. Do you want to know what it actually means, or what people like Ron Weasley think it means?"

"What it actually means." Hermione said, her facing morphing into its usual 'gimme knowledge!' look.

"In basic terms, I have the ability to Portkey through the wards of Hogwarts, since the blood of a Founder runs through my veins. The anti-Portkey wards the Founders set up are among the most powerful ever created."

"What's a Portkey?" Hermione asked quickly.

Harry sighed. "A Portkey is a form of magical transport. Basically, when a Portkey is activated, you're dragged into a cyclone of magic, and whisked wherever you need to go. It's very fast, something like one mile every 0.9 seconds, so you could go from Land's End to John O'Groats in just over thirteen minutes."

Hermione calculated for a moment. That was extremely fast. "Could you give me that in English?"

"It's known as hypersonic velocity. Basically means that a Portkey travels at the equivalent of Mach 5.2, or 1,787 metres per second." He grinned at her. "You could get to America in under an hour. Not even Concorde can match that. Personally, out of all of the magical ways to travel, that's probably my favourite." He thought for a moment. "Or, rather, that's the one I dislike the least. Then there's apparition."

"What's Apparition?" Hermione asked.

"You've seen Star Trek. Think of it as the equivalent of beaming down somewhere. Problem is, it's limited in range, and it's slower than a Portkey. Plus, it very easy to ward against. That's why being an Heir of Hogwarts doesn't allow me to Apparate in Hogwarts grounds. Each Headmaster and Headmistress has added their own anti-apparition wards when they assume office. There's something like forty different anti-apparition wards over the Hogwarts grounds. Even the Founders themselves wouldn't be able to do it."

"Oh." Hermione looked a little crest-fallen. "Is that it?"

"Yep." Harry said, looking pensive for a moment. "The only other possible benefit would be if I ever wanted to apply to be Headmaster, here. Because I am a Founder's Heir, my application would be given a little more consideration, but that's it. I wouldn't automatically become a teacher or Headmaster, based solely on my blood-line."

"Makes sense." Hermione said. "What would people like Weasley think it means?"

Harry snorted. "He probably thinks I'd be like royalty. People think that the Founders have massive vaults under Gringotts, containing millions of Galleons, and that I could take over the Wizarding world with just a snap of my fingers."

Hermione pouted. "Couldn't you? That would make things so much easier." She looked at him coyly. "Please?"

Harry just grinned. "Sadly, no. The Founders created a school, a very good, very old school, but that's all they did. They didn't change the world. They simply gave English witches and wizards a place to learn."

"Hmph." Hermione looked at him oddly. "Why do people make such a big deal of it, then?"

"Why do people play up to being related to the Royal Family? It doesn't get them anything. They're not in line to ascend to the throne. They're not actually Royals themselves. They're just a minor branch of an old, famous family. Same with me. The Potters are a minor branch of the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw line. It doesn't really mean anything."

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip again, then carried on walking. "Come on. We've got potions."

After a quick stop to gather their Potions textbook and supplies, the two headed for the dungeons. Harry had asked Professor Dumbledore to teach Potions lessons for a fortnight upon his return to school, but Dumbledore had taken to the lessons with a passion he'd forgotten, and extended the teaching.During the lessons, Dumbledore would teach, explaining why the ingredients reacted with each other, why it was necessary to chop in a certain why, and why it was a bad idea to throw slighty explosive compounds in other peoples' cauldrons. All elementary things that Snape should have taught.

While Dumbledore was giving his lecture, Harry started flipping through his textbook. The book contained 'standard' potions, from 1st year to 5th year. Harry quickly found one of the last ones to be taught to students, and chuckled to himself.

"Mr. Potter?"

An elbow to the ribs, again courtesy of Hermione, brought Harry's attention back to the present. "Ye gods, woman," He hissed softly to her. "I've just got out of hospital, and you're trying to send me back?" Hermione pointed weakly at Dumbledore.

Harry looked up. "Yes, Professor?"

"Was something in my lecture amusing, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

"Sorry, sir." Harry said, giving a watered-down version of his 'puppy-dog' look. "I saw something in my textbook that amused me."

Dumbledore nodded. "And would you care to share that little nugget of amusement with the rest of the class, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, sir."

"I must insist, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said firmly.

With an immense sigh, Harry nodded. "Well, sir. I thought it was funny that the anti-Hangover potion isn't taught until seventh year. Especially since we can get in to Hogsmeade in third year. I think it would be beneficial to teach that say... fourth year."

Dumbledore smirked, for just a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Class, thanks to Mr. Potter, we shall today be brewing the Hangover remedy potion."

Hermione scowled at him, then quickly turned the pages in her textbook, until she found the potion. This is it? How easy's that? It was a simple potion.

The rest of the class caught up with Hermione, then glanced at Harry, smiling warmly at him. This would be a nice, easy day for them. And profitable, if they could save some until the next Hogsmeade weekend. Harry laughed to himself, steepling his fingers and reminding himself of a cartoon with yellow people. Exxxxcellent...

After handing in twenty vials of hangover potion, the class was dismissed. Dumbledore vanished quickly, probably rushing back to do his actual job of running the school. Harry and Hermione were among the last in the lab, putting away the remainder of their ingredients."Mr. Potter." A silky voice interrupted Harry's packing. He looked up, to see the face of the hated potions professor.

"Snivellus!" Harry said warmly, taking a deep breath. "I thought I could smell something. To be honest, I thought I'd stepped in something outside."

Snape snarled. "I am a professor, and you will address me with respect."

Hermione finished packing, and headed for the door, not wanting to be in the same room as the vile creature.

"The day I address you with respect, 'Batman', is the day Satan goes to work in a snow-plough." Harry shoved his book into his bag, then looked sharply at Snape. "Why are you speaking to me? This is against the rules, you know." He tutted loudly. "10 points from the faculty, for being a dunderhead."

Snape growled, pulling his wand.

"You really want to think about that, Snivellus." Harry said conversationally. "You're hanging on by a thread, you know."

"You're just like your father!" Snape spat. "He was arrogant, as well."

"Was he?" Harry beamed. "I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me, creep." He wiped a mock-tear from his eye. "Get's me," He tapped his chest, just above his heart, "right here, it does."

"I will have you expelled, Potter! Just wait."

Harry suddenly sobered up, standing up to his full height, eyeing Snape with a death's-head glare. "Listen to me, you little glob of tubercolotic sputum. I own your pale, skinny hide. Threatening me? Bad idea." He suddenly smiled evilly. "You dick about with me, and I can have you up to your arse in Dementors by this time tomorrow."

Harry clicked his fingers, causing Snape's wand to go flying out of his hand, and into Harry's. "Just think about that." He threw the wand over his shoulder as he turned around, walking out of the room while whistling a jaunty tune.

Behind him, he could almost hear Snape seething in impotent rage.

As he left the room, Snape could hear Harry singing in the hall. "And I know it's gonna be... a lovely day!"

CHAPTER NINETEEN –

Funny Valentine

January rolled into February. There hadn't been any attempts on the Philosopher's Stone, and Fluffy was still guarding the entryway.

Harry and Hermione still battled for the top spots in all subjects. Since they were best friends, it wasn't really a battle, more a friendly tussle. It wasn't quite Greco-Roman wrestling in chocolate pudding, but Harry was prepared to wait for OWL year for that.

There was one thing Harry was really starting to dread: February 14th... Valentine's Day. In the previous timestream, Harry and Hermione didn't really celebrate that particular holiday. As far as they were concerned, they were in love, and showed that everyday. Why bother with a commercial holiday designed to sell cuddly toys and over-priced gift cards?

However, his Hermione had been dead, relatively speaking, for almost a century. The Hermione he was with now had led a sheltered life, shunned by her peers for her startling intelligence and fierce devotion to learning.

I can send her something nice for Valentine's. Maybe a bouquet of yellow roses. Nice, but not overly romantic. A symbol of friendship. I'm sure she'd like them. Harry thought.

He was sat at the breakfast table, and thought hard. With a screech, Hedwig appeared in the mail hole, soaring down to her master.

"How do you always know, Hedwig?" He asked softly. "You're such a beautiful owl, aren't you?" Hedwig preened for a moment, looking at Harry with her big, amber eyes. "And you're so clever."

"Harry?" Hermione's soft voice cut into his staring contest. He looked up, to see her sit down next to him. "Have you got a letter?"

He shook his head. "No. I was just thinking of sending a letter off, and Hedwig came swooping down." He tickled her under her chin. "She's such a clever, pretty owl, aren't you?"

Hermione just smiled, reaching across Harry to add her own tickles. Hedwig hooted softly, soaking up the attention. "She's not just your pet, is she? How is it possible that you have a familiar at age eleven? Most witches and wizards can't do it until later in life."

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. As soon as I saw her, I felt something... different. I can tell when she's tired, or in pain."

"When was she in pain?" Hermione asked immediately.

"She got into a fight with one of the school owls. He must've been trying to use some cheesy owl pick-up lines on her." Harry changed from tickling her chin to tickling her belly. "Hed's a lady of class, aren't you, girl? Nothing but the best for you."

Hedwig hooted again, seemingly agreeing with Harry. Harry quickly glanced at Hermione. "Do you have some parchment and a quill?"

Hermione dipped into her bag, producing the required items. While Harry was writing out a note, she looked at Hedwig, and leaned in. "You're an Animagus, aren't you? Some kind of karate-kicking cha-cha dance instructor." Hedwig looked at her and winked, the owl equivalent of a smirk on her face, before bobbing over to Harry, who tied his completed note to her leg. He leaned in close to whisper a destination to her. Hedwig nodded, gently nuzzled his ear, and leapt into the air, her powerful wings carrying her straight to the mail hole.

Harry turned to Hermione. "So... what's on the agenda for today?"

Valentine's Day dawned with snow. It was the first thing Hermione noticed as she opened her eyes. That, and a nice aroma, which permeated her room, and wasn't there when she went to sleep. She sat up, glancing around the room. There were bundles of yellow roses arranged everywhere.

She got up, reaching for the nearest bundle. She found a card, the chicken-scratch used to inscribe it immediately identifiable as Harry's alleged 'handwriting'. She read it, a warm feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

To my best, my beautiful, My Only, Hermione. Love, Harry.

Each of the cards said the same. She smiled warmly, before heading to the shower.

Harry woke up, a silly grin on his face as he realised that Hermione would be waking up about now, and finding his handiwork over her dorm room. He shot out of bed, racing to the shower.

He got into the common room, sitting down on the navy blue loveseat closest to the stairs. He only had to wait a moment, before Hermione came down, dressed in her robes, with a yellow rose attached to the front.

As soon as she saw him, she rushed over, giving him a 'Hermi-hug', which included an extra squeeze and was held a few seconds longer than the standard issue hug. "They're beautiful, Harry. Thank you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, both of them blushing.

Bloody hell! Harry thought, as he felt his cheeks heating up. I've had sex with a variation of this woman for almost five years! I've done things to her that I could never tell her parents. Or anyone in a position of authority in most governments. And now, when she kisses me on the cheek, I'm blushing like an eleven-year old! What's wrong with me? You are an eleven-year old again, Harry.Who asked you, anyway

Hermione's thoughts were a little more innocent. He's so sweet! Why am I blushing? It was just a friendly peck on the cheek. You'd like it to be a bit more, wouldn't you? A traitorous part of her brain responded. Shut up.

Harry cleared his throat. "Wanna go to breakfast?"

The two made their way into the Great Hall, hand-in-hand. They went to their usual spot, and loaded up on the heavy breakfast foods Hogwarts offered.

"Wanna snowball fight later?" Harry asked, not quite meeting Hermione's eyes. She nodded, without looking at him.

"Oh, hell." Harry muttered, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing. "Why are we both blushing, Hermione? Is it 'cause it's Valentine's Day?"

Hermione, still blushing, nodded quickly, then waited a moment for her hair to catch up.

"Let's just forget it's Valentine's, shall we? You're still my beautiful best friend. Why should flowers make you embarrassed?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "It's, er... It's not just flowers, Harry." Hermione said softly. "No-one's ever given me something for Valentine's. Ever."

Harry smiled warmly. "Well... I'll make sure I get you something every year, then." He promised. "Did you like them?" Again, she nodded vigorously, her hair struggling to keep up. "Good. You can kick my arse later with snowballs."

She grinned at him. The screech of owls filled the hall. Harry looked up, to see a number of owls heading directly for him.

"Oh, bollocks..." He muttered. They landed on the table in front of him. Harry began to untie the letters, piling them up next to his plate.

Tonks, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, noticed the growing stack, and suppressed a smile. Harry seemed to be a typical clueless male when it came to Valentine's, although the lovely rose the girl next to him was wearing certainly caught her attention.

Harry finally pulled the last letter off the last owl, and sent them all back. He looked at the pile. Thirty-one letters... Thirty-one! If this is the work of the Weasley twins, I'm going to be most annoyed.

He opened the first letter, not recognising the handwriting.

Dear Harry Potter,

My name is Angela Poplar. As it is Valentine's Day, I thought this would be the best time to send this offer of marriage to you.

At this point, Harry stopped reading. You have got to be bloody kidding me! Marriage proposals? I'm eleven years old, for Merlin's sake!

Hermione looked over his shoulder, reading the first part of the letter, and sniggering quietly. Harry started to screw up the letter, picking up the envelope, noticing it was too stiff to be empty. With a trembling hand, he reached in to pull out a photograph of an older witch, appearing to be in her late twenties to early thirties.

"Oh, come on!" Harry groaned. "She's nearly old enough to be my mum!" The Wizarding photograph, an attractive witch in a small bikini, winked at him, blowing him a kiss, while demonstrating hand motions that would probably lead to arthritis in later life.

Harry turned to Hermione, a pleading look on his face. "Hermione, please help!"

Hermione just carried on snickering into her hand, shaking her head before dissolving into a fresh wave of giggles. Harry quickly opened the rest of the letters. There were three that interested him. The first was a bank statement from Gringotts. That was neatly folded and tucked into his robes. The other two were letters from parents of three of his classmates. With a quick Incendio, the pile of odd letters were destroyed.

Harry looked up in horror, as he read the first. "Uh... Padma? You got a minute?"

The pretty Indian student looked up when he called her name, and nodded. She moved down the table to sit opposite of Harry. "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry just handed the letter over to Padma, who started to read, her face slowly becoming more ashen the more she read. "I... I didn't know... Why would he do this without asking me?"

Hermione looked up at the trembling tone of her year-mate. "What's wrong?"

Harry just looked down at his breakfast, not quite willing to answer the question himself. Hermione glanced over at Padma. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked at Hermione. "Uh... My... My father has sent an offer of marriage to Harry."

Hermione was in the midst of taking a sip of her orange juice, and started to choke at the announcement. After a moment of squeaking, she swallowed, clearing the fluid from her throat, and coughed. When she got herself under control, Harry rubbing her back gently, she looked at Padma, disbelief written all over her face. "What? Why?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Padma, I have no idea why this has happened. Could you give me a hint?"

Padma blushed, glancing around. "Uh... It's a pureblood custom. Arranged marriages between politically powerful families. The Potters are a famous family, and an alliance between Potter and Patil would be a great boon for my family."

Harry looked startled. Even in the original timeline, he'd never really delved into Pureblood politics. Far too much trouble. "Uh, Padma? Please, please don't take this the wrong way, but how exactly do I respond to this?" Quickly anticipating a slap, he surged ahead. "I'm not thinking about marriage at this point in my life, and I don't know how to answer your father's question. And, when I do eventually marry, I'd like it to be because I fell in love with the girl, not because of a political or pureblood match."

Padma looked up. "Well, if you explain that to my father, he should accept it." She looked down at the letter. "I can't believe he wouldn't talk to me about it first."

Harry was a little relieved that Padma had taken it well. There was another problem. "Padma, could you hang around for a minute?" She looked at him, confused, before nodding. "Good." Harry turned on the bench. "Susan? Do you have a minute?"

Susan Bones, the pretty red-head in Hufflepuff, looked up, blushing when she saw the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived' talking to her, quickly whispered something to Hannah, who was sat next to her, then stood up and came across to the Ravenclaw table. She sat down at Harry's gesture, and looked at him, the furious blush still staining her cheeks.

"What can I help you with, Harry?" She asked shyly.

Harry picked up the other piece of mail. "Do you know a lady called Amelia Bones?"

Susan nodded, "She's my Aunt," then blushed even more intensely. This was going to be an awkward conversation...

"I, uh... I received a letter from her this morning." Harry said, extending the piece of parchment to Susan, who quickly took it and read, blushing even more and squeaking incoherently. It took a full three minutes for Harry, Hermione and Padma to get Susan to calm down enough to speak again.

"Er... Harry... I... uh..." Susan looked like she was about to pass out. "I... she's always... uh... trying to arrange a... a, uh... a good match for me." She stammered.

Harry just nodded. "I can understand your Aunt trying to find you a good match." He said delicately. "However, I... uh... At this point, I'm not looking for marriage. For Merlin's sake, I'm only eleven years old."

Susan squeaked something, and tried to stand up. Padma came to his rescue. "Susan, don't take it personally." She gave Harry a sly glance. "I don't think our young Mr. Potter's gotten out of his 'toys' stage enough yet to notice girls."

Harry's brow arched, and he gave Padma a piercing look. His voice, when he spoke again, was husky, and sent chills down the spines of all three young ladies. "I'll have you know, Miss Patil, that I got out of my 'toys' stage quite a while ago. I'm fully capable of noticing attractive young ladies." And the only one I want is sitting next to me, smelling nice and looking cute. Damn her!

Padma stared at him for a moment, before smiling ruefully. "Serves me right for fishing for compliments, eh, Harry?" Padma looked at the letter her father had sent. "I don't understand it, though. Why did my father send this to you? He should have sent it to the Head of House Potter."

Harry, while Padma was pouting, had pulled out his bank statement from Gringotts, and was flicking through the list of minor transactions. "I am the Head of House Potter." He said absently, not looking up. "Emancipated wizards at age eleven can take control of the family." His family ring became visible for a moment, and then disappeared.

He looked up, to see Padma and Susan staring at him. "What?"

"You're the House Head?" Susan squeaked. "Do you know what that means?"

Harry just looked vaguely confused. "Er... yes?"

"Harry, as the Head of an Ancient and Noble house, you actually have the title of Lord, and a seat on the Wizengamot." Padma exclaimed. "Now I understand why my father sent you this letter. It would be a great honour to join with the Potter family."

Shit! Run! Hide! Obliviate? Harry's brain screamed. No, too severe. For now."I still stand by what I said, Padma." Harry said firmly. "When I do eventually marry, which won't be for a while yet, I want it to be because I fell in love with the girl, not because it's politically convenient."

Hermione cleared her throat next to him. He glanced at her, noticing a slight frown on her face. Long years of exposure to that frown made him recognise what it meant. "I'm not looking for love at the moment," Because I already love Hermione, and would die for her in an instant, "but I'd be glad to have two extra friends."

Susan blushed again, and tentatively held out her hand. "I'd be honoured, Lord Potter." She said.

"Hey! None of that. My friends," Which is pretty much Hermione, at this point,"call me Harry. I'd be honoured if you'd do the same."

Susan nodded, while Harry extended his hand to Padma. "So, what do you girls have planned for today?"

As it turned out, none of the four had any plans, so Harry suggested a trip down to Hagrid's hut. The two other girls had never met the immense Groundskeeper, and Harry hadn't really spoken to him since the Quidditch match.

They trooped down to Hagrid's hut, hearing the customary 'back, Fang!' as the door opened. Padma and Susan squeaked as they saw the half-giant, and took a discrete step backwards.

"Harry!" Hagrid near-shouted, picking Harry up and squeezing him. For a moment, Harry was worried that he'd black out.

"H-Hagrid," He rasped.

"Yes?" Hagrid said, still clutching onto the boy.

"I-I'm seeing... spots!" He gasped, before Hagrid let go, allowing him to drop to a knee, before taking a deep breath, and hauling himself back to his feet. Man, I think that armour's useful for more than just Quidditch."Thanks. I feel better now." He smiled at the half-giant. "Thanks for taking me to the hospital wing."

Hagrid just nodded, muttering something as he took a step outside the hut, shutting the door behind him. "What can I do for you four, then?"

Harry wondered why Hagrid wasn't inviting them in, when he remembered what had happened originally. "I just thought I come down and see how you are, Hagrid, and to introduce Susan and Padma here to you."

Hagrid held out and hand, introducing himself to the girls. "I'd love to stay and chat, Harry," Hagrid said, looking behind himself guiltily, "but I'm a bit busy at the moment."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Harry took a step forward. "You're hiding something, Hagrid." Harry said, staring at the older man, who looked away immediately. "You can't deny it."

Hagrid looked at Harry, and slumped in defeat. "I can see why they put you in Ravenclaw, Harry. Don't miss a trick, do you?"

"No." Harry replied. "You've got something you're not supposed to have, haven't you?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or is it a someoneyou're not supposed to have there? Is there a future Mrs. Hagrid?"

Hagrid, grumbling, opened the door, allowing a blast of frighteningly warm air shoot out of the door. "You'd better come in."

The five trooped inside, finding various places to sit. Hagrid grabbed a pair of oven gloves, heading over to a cauldron hanging over the fire. He reached in, pulling out a large, black... something. He placed it on the table.

"You have got to be bloody kidding me!" Harry said, letting surprise creep into his voice, drawing in a breath of scorching air, hot coals forming in his lungs. "Where the hell did you get a dragon egg, Hagrid?"

"Won it off a stranger down the pub a couple of weeks ago, Harry." Hagrid replied, sounding remarkably unconcerned for a man holding what would eventually turn into a walking combined blast furnace/flamethrower. "I told you when we went to Gringotts that I've always wanted one."

"It's illegal, Hagrid." Hermione said primly. "Dragon eggs are Class-A restricted goods! If you get caught with this you could be arrested, Hagrid."

Hagrid, still burbling with excitement over finally owning a dragon egg, carefully ignored Hermione's rebuke. He smiled at them as he put the egg back into the fire, before shooing them out.

Harry led the way as the foursome returned to school. "This could be a problem." He said, stopping on the path.

"This could be a disaster!" Hermione exclaimed. "He could be sent to prison just for having that egg."

Susan looked around. "Is this what being your friend is like?" She asked softly, smiling slightly. "Running around, having very odd days?" Padma looked very interested in the answer.

Harry shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah." Hermione nodded next to him.

"This could be the start of a beautiful friendship." Padma said, linking her arm with Susan's.

Hermione smiled softly. "I'd put money on you in a bare-knuckle fight against a troll. How good are you against dragons?"

Harry thought for a moment, before a silly grin erupted on his face. "Pretty good. Anyway... we need to a way to help Hagrid get rid of an illegal dragon. Who do we know who is devious, evil, twisted, and capable of getting away with murder, mayhem and destruction?"

The three girls looked at each other, before a single word burst from all three mouths. "Weasleys!"

"Gentlemen!" Harry's voice carried through the Great Hall, before he sat down at the Gryffindor table, in between the terrible twosome. "I have need of your expert technical assistance."

"Do tell, ickle Harrikins." The twin on his left stated.

"We're all ears." The twin on his right added.

Harry leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I need a way to remove an illegal dragon from this school. Frankly, the two of you leapt to the forefront of my mind."

The twins whistled in unison. "You don't think small, Harry." Fred, the twin on the left, replied softly.

"However, it's certainly possible." George concluded.

"Do tell."

"Well, our brother Charlie works at a dragon reserve in Romania-" Fred began.

"And we're sure that he'd be able to help." George finished.

Harry nodded. "That's good, but there's the small issue of getting said dragon from here to said preserve in Romania."

"Not easy-"

"But doable."

"Would you care to share how this difficult task would be accomplished?"

"Not-"

"Now. But-"

"Soon."

Harry looked from one to the other, before groaning slightly. "Could you either speak completely in unison, or have one of you speak the whole sentence? Frankly, my neck's getting sore."

Both grinned at him. Evil little gits. Harry thought fondly. In all his life, he'd never met anyone quite like the Weasley twins. Thank Merlin.

"Very well, Harry." The twins spoke as one. "We'll send a letter to our brother, explaining the situation." The peered intently at him. "How did you get a dragon egg?"

"I didn't." Harry replied glumly. "Hagrid won it in a card game a couple of weeks ago. Silly git's been heating it in a cauldron since then, and it looks about ready to hatch. Frankly, need to get it the hell away from here before it destroys the school."

The twins stood. "We'll send it now." They dashed away, as another redhead approached. Oh, bloody hell. Just what I didn't need.

"Potter. What are you doing at the Gryffindor table?" Ron snapped testily. "Finally decided to join a proper house?"

Harry just arched an eyebrow as he stood up. "Any fool can be brave, Weasley." He said pompously. "It takes someone with intelligence to win a proper fight."

Ron sneered. Looks remarkably like Draco like that. Harry thought idly. "Oh, yeah? What would you know about it?"

Harry just sniggered as he walked away from the impotent git, heading back to Hermione. Don't want to leave her alone. After all, it's only Valentine's Day once a year. His last view of the Weasel was watching him spatter gravy over his robes. The more things change...

CHAPTER TWENTY –

The More Things Change...

Harry was still waiting to hear from the Weasley twins about contacting Charlie to remove Hagrid's baby dragon. It had been a week since the letter was sent, and Harry knew the egg would be hatching soon.

This time, however, he had absolutely no desire to go wandering in the Forbidden Forest to chase dead unicorns. There were more dangerous things he could be doing with his time, like re-arranging his sock drawer.

He spent the next week hanging out with both Padma and Susan; it was weird, he'd spent seven years as Parvati's year-mate, but he knew already knew more about Padma from just his recent short contact. Susan was difficult at first, as she had an armour-plating of shyness around her, which took some serious effort to breaking. However, once he'd managed to crack through, he found her to have a base sense of humour and an evil laugh, a result from living with the head of the DMLE. This sense of humour managed to intimidate Neville a little, as he appeared to be nervous, and unsure as to whether he was allowed to laugh, whenever he was in the same class as the others. Seems like being apart from the Weasel has sapped what self-confidence he had. Harry decided that he'd try and build that up.

Harry was enjoying lunch in the Great Hall, with Padma on his left, Hermione on his right, and Neville sat in front of him at the Gryffindor table. They were talking about the differences between Arithmancy and Mathematics; well, Hermione and Padma were talking about that, Neville was ducking sprouts being thrown at him by Ron and Harry has using his wand to fire them back, considerably harder. Ron and Seamus, both covered in tattered shreds of green vegetable, looked deeply offended when Harry pointed out that, with the green on their robes, they looked almost Slytherin."Slytherin?" The redhead sputtered. "I can't be a Slytherin, I'm good!"

"God, you annoy the life out of me, Weasley!" Harry snapped suddenly. "You told me that all Slytherin's are evil, slimy and can't be trusted. Why, 'cause they're prejudiced?"

Ron nodded. "That's exactly right! They're evil!"

Harry laughed sardonically. "Don't you get it? You're prejudiced against them!"

"What? I'm not prejudiced! I just hate Slytherins!"

Absolutely thicker than a brick sandwich. Hermione chuckled to herself. He makes two short planks look like a computer.

"I don't hate Slytherins." Harry said firmly, gathering the attention of practically everyone in the hall. "The be frank, my only prejudice is prejudiced people. People who think that First-generation witches and wizards shouldn't be allowed to study magic? Don't like them. People who use the word..." Harry paused for a moment, collecting himself, "'Mudblood', they should all get a hard kick in the butt. People who think they're better than others, simply because of bloodlines? Don't like them."

"You're describing Slytherins!" Ron crowed, convinced that his argument had just been won.

"I haven't finished." Harry said sharply. "You are labelling everyone in Slytherin as dark and evil. Are they?" Harry turned to the Slytherin table. "Are you all dark and evil?"

Nobody uttered a syllable.

"My dislikes are individualised. I don't like Malfoy, 'cause he's an arrogant, bigoted git. It has nothing to do with the fact he's a Slytherin. It's just his... personality." Harry suppressed a snigger, before turning to face Ron. "Stick him in Ravenclaw, I still wouldn't like him. I don't like you, 'cause you're an arrogant, bigoted git." He suddenly clicked his fingers together. "You know, apart from hair colour, you two are very similar."

Hermione, Susan, Neville and Padma started giggling.

"What?" Malfoy shouted. "I'm nothing like him! He's poor!"

"I'm nothing like him!" Ron shouted at the same time. "He's evil!"

"He's eleven!" Harry retorted. "What's he gonna do? Crucio me?"

"Probably." Ron replied.

"Well, if I turn up to breakfast suffering from the Cruciatus, then we'll agree that he's evil. If I'm okay, then I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, sit down, idiot!" Harry sneered softly. "You know, it's better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and actually prove it." Harry turned back to his table, suddenly aware that every eye in the Great Hall was firmly fixed on him. "Sorry." He muttered, before sitting down.

"Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's sharp voice filled the hall. "Please continue. Your point of view, that of a Muggleborn student with less than a year's experience of the Wizarding world, is refreshing. I would like to hear more."

Harry leaned in close to Hermione. "He wants me to get on my soapbox?" He stood up. "What would you like to know, sir?"

"Your opinions on the Wizarding world in general, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, leaning back in his golden throne.

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts. Okay, a chance for a good rant. God, I love it! He looked around the Great Hall, noticing everyone staring at him. He started to make his way to the stage, intent on stopping just in front of it.

"One of the very first things I heard when I entered the Wizarding world is that there are evil witches and wizards. And that there wasn't a witch or wizard who'd gone bad that wasn't from Slytherin."

As expected, there was a cry of protest from the Slytherin table. Harry just raised a hand. "Let me carry on, please." He said in a firm voice, which was instantly obeyed.

"Now, personally, I don't see how that's possible. Why would an ancient artefact like the Sorting Hat build a house of evil? That doesn't make any sense. So, while I was in Diagon Alley, I looked up the four founders. Slytherin wasn't evil."

"Yes, he was!" A voice shouted from the Gryffindor table. Harry instantly knew who it was.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Harry shouted back, not even bothering to look. "If he was evil, why would he help three good witches and wizards set up a school? That's not typically the work of an evil genius. Why would three good witches and wizards spend time with an evil wizard?

"So, I looked him up. Slytherin didn't believe that Muggleborns shouldn't be taught magic. What he believed was that the separation between the magical and Muggle worlds should be absolute."

Dumbledore coughed slightly. Harry turned to look at him. "Sir?"

"No, please, carry on." Dumbledore said quickly. "This is fascinating. Although, I wouldn't mind looking at some of these books myself."

Harry nodded, then turned back to the students. "There are about four hundred students in this school at the moment. Probably a hundred to a hundred and fifty are Muggleborns." Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"One hundred and twenty-three." He said quietly.

"One hundred and twenty-three." Harry repeated, turning back to the audience. "That means that there are 246 Muggles who know about the magical world. That doesn't include siblings or grandparents. Then, there are the half-blooded students, who again have Muggle relatives who know about Hogwarts. If any of those people went to the papers and told them about the magical world, the Statute of Secrecy would be absolutely wiped out. They'd be no way to Obliviate everyone. The whole Muggle world would know about us, but they wouldn't understand us. Their lack of understanding would lead to fear, and that fear would fuel violence against us. We're outnumbered 2000-1. We'd be slaughtered, man, woman and child, before we could even think about hiding or fighting.

"Now, Slytherin didn't hate Muggles, he just knew that they spent an inordinate amount of time coming up with increasingly painful ways of killing wizards. That's what Slytherin feared. He believed that Muggleborn students should be taken away from their families so that the magical world remains secret." Harry cleared his throat, wishing desperately for a glass of water. A House-Elf popped in front of him with a glass, then vanished again.

"I can understand Slytherin's point. Personally, I don't agree with it, but I can understand it." He took a long swig of water. "One thing Slytherin prized above everything else was cunning. He was ambitious and cunning. Those are the traits of Slytherin house. Not evil."

"You're wrong!" Weasley shouted. Harry ignored him.

"During my reading, and keeping in mind that 'all dark witches and wizards are evil', I looked up some of the worst criminals in the last fifty years. I found the worst four. Lord Voldemort," pause for flinching, "was a Slytherin."

"Hah! I told you!" Weasley shouted. Fred and George, growing seriously annoyed with their brother, cast a Silencio on him.

"Thanks, guys." Harry said, grinning at the twins. "Bellatrix LeStrange," Harry noticed Neville stiffen slightly, "was a Ravenclaw. She was Voldemort's chief enforcer. She came from the home of the intelligent, yet followed Voldemort." Harry took another drink. "Bartemus Crouch Junior, another high-ranking Death Eater, came from Hufflepuff house. And finally, Sirius Black, the traitor to the Potter family, came from Gryffindor." I hope you never hear this speech, Padfoot. Harry thought wistfully.

"So, if all evil witches and wizards came from Slytherin, what happened with those three? Can anyone tell me? No, of course you can't. Slytherin prizes ambition; Voldemort's ambitious. Ravenclaw prizes intelligence; LeStrange used her intellect to decide that she believed in Voldemort's cause. Hufflepuff prizes loyalty: Crouch was loyal to Voldemort, even going to his death in Azkaban, never wavering in his support for his Lord. Gryffindor prizes courage; Black sold out my parents to Voldemort, even though everybody knows he was the Secret-Keeper." Harry decided to personalise things a little. He stepped towards the Slytherin table. "Mr. Flint. Marcus. May I call you Marcus? Let me ask you a couple of questions."

The burly sixth-year looked a little nervous at being in the spotlight, but nodded.

"What do you plan to do when you leave Hogwarts, Mr. Flint?" Harry asked politely.

Flint looked thoughtful for a moment. Either that, or he's constipated. Harry thought softly. Flint cleared his throat. "I wanna play Quidditch."

"Quidditch?" Harry asked, sounding politely confused. "But, you're a Slytherin. Shouldn't you be planning murders? After all, as a Slytherin, you're automatically evil."

Flint looked confused. It reminded Harry of watching a rusty tractor trying to plough a concrete field.

"Don't worry. Which Quidditch team would you like to play for?"

Flint grinned. "Appleby Arrows."

"Are they any good?" Harry asked. "I don't really follow professional Quidditch."

Looking a little wistful, Flint replied. "They used to be top of the league. Slipped to midway down the table."

Harry nodded. "I assume that you'd like to play for them, and get them back to the top of the table?"

Flint nodded, grinning.

"But... you can't do that. It's not evil enough. And as a Slytherin, you simply must be evil. Perhaps you should plot eliminating the other teams' players." Harry turned away, not giving the confused Flint a chance to answer, before heading back to the centre of the room. "So, it doesn't sound to me like he's evil. It sounds like he's ambitious.

"Percy Weasley." Harry stood in front of the Gryffindor table. "What do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

Percy stood up, pompously puffing out his chest. "I want to work at the Ministry."

Harry nodded, inwardly rolling his eyes. "I see. You're currently a prefect, so I assume you'd like an important position. Possibly even being the Minister of Magic someday?" Percy nodded once, looking a little wistful himself.

"So, you're also ambitious. You and Mr. Flint both want to become the best in your chosen fields. Yet Mr. Flint will have a harder task, simply because he's a Slytherin."

Harry leaned against the stage. "Personally, I kinda like the idea of becoming a spell creator. Maybe invent a shield that can block the unforgivable curses. And that's an ambitious project in itself." He pointed to Flint, Percy and himself. "All three of us have ambitious goals.

"However, one of my main complaints about the Wizarding world is the issue of blood."

Malfoy stood up. "There's nothing wrong with being a pureblood!" He snapped.

"I never said there was, Malfoy. But, there're things you need to consider."

Malfoy scoffed, before glaring at Harry. "And what's that, oh great Potter?"

Ignoring the Malfoy scion's silly tone, Harry carried on. "If you keep following the pureblood traditions, you'll find inbreeding starts to occur. There's not many so-called 'pureblood' families left. Also, look at the number of children that are being born. Malfoy's an only child. Pansy is an only child. The Patils are twins, but they have no brothers and sisters. One of the few exceptions of this are the Weasleys, with seven children. The number of purebloods is decreasing. At the moment, it's necessary to start marrying second- and third-cousins. Soon, it'll be first-cousins, then brothers and sisters.

"Without an infusion of fresh blood, through the Muggleborn witches and wizards, the pureblood families will simply be gone within the next two centuries. Bearing in mind the life-span of witches and wizards, I believe that some of us will even see it.

"Your blood doesn't matter. The only thing blood has to do with anything is keeping you alive. It doesn't matter if you're a thirtieth-generation pureblood, or a first-generation. We are all magical beings, and that is all that should matter."

Harry started to stride back to his seat. "Here endeth the lesson." He sat next to Hermione, who was smiling warmly at him, before grabbing a sandwich.

Dumbledore stood up, gaining the attention of everyone in the hall. Slowly, he began to clap, quickly followed by the rest of the faculty. Even Snape. Soon, all the students were clapping, except for Malfoy and Ron Weasley. Harry ducked down in his seat, blushing a bright red.

"You did very well." Hermione whispered, rubbing his back slightly.

The following morning, Harry was sat at the Ravenclaw table, waiting for Hermione and Padma to join him. A very soft cough next to him brought Harry's attention to Susan Bones. "May I join you?" She asked shyly.Harry nodded, gesturing to the bench next to him. Susan tentatively sat down. Next to her, Tonks practically threw herself onto the bench, nearly spilling everyone currently sitting to the floor.

"Wotcher, Harry." She said, reaching for a bowl of cereal.

"Morning, Tonks. Would you care to join us for breakfast?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Tonks blushed slightly, looking at him with a sheepish grin. "Wouldn't mind."

Hermione and Padma approached, Padma taking her usual place across the table, while Hermione sat next to him. "Good morning, Hermione!" Harry said joyously. "May I say you look lovely this morning?"

Hermione blushed. "You may, Mr. Potter." She said pompously.

Padma, Susan and Tonks exchanged a quick glance. While on Valentine's Day, Harry had said he wasn't looking for marriage at the moment, it was clear to all three of them that when he was looking, Hermione would be on the very top of a very short list. All three stifled giggles, which Harry, completely oblivious to any female except Hermione, didn't notice.

Another throat-clearing grasped Harry's attention. He saw Neville Longbottom, blushing slightly.

"Longbottom." Harry said neutrally. "Something I can do for you?"

Neville just coughed slightly. "I was wondering if I might join you, Mr. Potter."

"Are you here on arse Weasley's orders, Longbottom?" Harry asked casually, ignoring Padma's (very ladylike) snort at the name given to Ron.

"No." Neville said, blushing even more. "I had to listen to his rant last night about how you were trying to corrupt everyone. Said Slytherin's are evil."

"Oh, we are." Another voice said from behind Padma. Harry glanced up to see Blaise Zabini stood there, his hands held casually behind his back.

"Zambini, right?" Harry asked. He quickly turned to Neville. "Sit down, man. You're making the place look untidy."

Neville sat next to Tonks, blushing at the beautiful Metamorph. Harry stared at Blaise.

"That's 'Zabini', Mr. Potter." He gestured to the bench next to Padma. "May I join you?"

Harry looked at Padma, who gave him a quick nod, before blushing slightly. Harry gave a slight wave, before Blaise sat down.

"So... you gonna try and turn us evil?" Harry asked, reaching for a platter of bacon.

Blaise arched an eyebrow, maintaining an expressionless face. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

Harry shrugged. "No, not really. Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse. All good with me." He stared at Blaise, admiring the way Blaise didn't squirm like most people. "Any reason you chose today to sit with us?"

"Yes." Blaise replied.

God, he's like Spock. Couldn't ask for a more emotionless person if you tried. "Do you feel like sharing the reason with us, or just letting us bask in your presence."

Blaise looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll allow you to bask. It's good for the skin."

Hermione snorted, giggling at Blaise's deadpan air.

"I like you." Harry said, grinning at the Slytherin. "Come the revolution, I'll deal with you last. So, I imagine I annoyed a lot of the Slytherins yesterday."

"You did."

"Was Malfoy crying and whinging like a little bitch?" Harry asked, looking like a child who'd just found out Christmas was to become a daily event. "Was he ranting to everyone about how disrespectful I am to purebloods?"

"He was." Blaise said. "He said that your comments were an insults to all purebloods, and that you should be put down like the little half-blooded mongrel that you are." Again, all this was said in a deadpan voice.

"Ah, I'm just devastated." Harry replied, still grinning. He looked at Padma. "What about you, Pad'? Were you insulted by my comments? After all, if I'm insulting purebloods, might as well try and collect the full set."

"I cried all night." Padma intoned, looking serious. "I felt absolutely violated, you evil little beast." She couldn't maintain the expression, and started giggling.

Hermione glanced over at the doors, groaning slightly, before tapping Harry on his arm. "Incoming."

Harry looked up to see a pair of grinning red-haired maniacs rushing towards him. He moaned, before letting his head drop onto the table. "Should have just stayed in bed." He muttered.

"Ah, little Harrikins!" The twins said in unison, slumping onto the bench next to Hermione, winking at her. "We have news!"

Harry looked up, a look of genuine horror on his face. "And what news do you bring, Hell's Carrots?"

Fred reaching into his pocket, pulling out a slightly burnt piece of parchment. "We have a letter from Charlie."

Tonks perked up. "Charlie? Your brother?"

George looked at her for a moment, eyeing her up and down. "Yes. You know Charlie?"

Tonks nodded quickly. "Yep. He was a couple of years ahead of me. Nice guy." She sighed, her face and hair turning red.

Fred and George sniggered, before turning serious. "You should read this, Harry."

Harry took the note, quickly assimilating the information. He turned to the group of individuals, before passing the note to Hermione. She read it, and quickly looked up, nodding at Harry once she'd guessed his intentions.

"So... who here feels like getting into some real trouble?"

The removal of Norbert from Hogwarts went smoothly, all thanks to Hermione's tremendous planning. She'd listed all the things that could possibly go wrong, 151 items... damn, that girl was smart!And thought up enough plans to counteract every single one.At the end of the planning session, Harry could feel himself going cross-eyed. It was certainly a better plan than 'let's just hike the damned box to the top of the Astronomy Tower'. So, it had all gone swimmingly.

Of course, Harry spent another week consoling a bawling Hagrid. It turned out Hagrid was not the best drunk in the world. Since losing his 'baby', he had to be constantly reassured that yes, he had friends who cared about him, and no, he wasn't a monster for getting rid of said 'baby'.

"Hey, Hermione." Harry said as he entered the Ravenclaw common room. She was sitting on the love seat in front of the fire, the light from the flames making her look like her head was surrounded by chocolate flames."Hi." Hermione responded absently, reading through a book with far too many pages.

"What'cha reading?" He asked, slumping next to her.

Hermione tilted the book slightly, so she could carry on reading while Harry read the title. "Alchemy: The Truth." Harry snorted. "Party on."

"I'm trying to find out more information about that stone." Hermione replied, glaring lightly at Harry. "I still can't figure out why Professor Dumbledore brought it to Hogwarts. I thought if we found out more about it, we'd have some clue."

We've discussed this. Harry thought absently. "It's too much of a coincidence that it's here, now. I don't trust coincidences."

Hermione nodded. "We could go and ask him." She offered.

"Oh, I could see it now." Harry snorted. "'Headmaster, why have you brought the Philosopher's Stone, a highly-powerful and dangerous magical artefact, into a school full of nosy children the same year that Harry Potter starts here?' Yeah, that'd go down well."

Hermione giggled. "Maybe... maybe a little more tact would work on that plan."

"Tact?" Harry managed to look and sound offended. "I'll have you know, Miss Granger, I'm full of tact and diplomacy."

"Only 'cause you never use it." Hermione retorted, wriggling away as Harry's hands went to her sides.

After the fight, which Harry won due to Hermione's unconditional surrender at Harry's far-too-talented fingers, she'd put the book away, and pulled out some homework. After an hour, she noticed Harry's occasional-but-speeding-up sighs.

"Harry, you okay?"

"Honestly? I'm bored."

Hermione wrinkled her nose cutely. "That's nice." She wrote another sentence on her essay, already on her third roll of parchment (for a 12 inch Potions essay; Snape was not going to be happy).

"I mean, I've done my homework. I've had a brief but silly fight with a Snap-Dragon in the greenhouse to decide who gets to keep my tie. There's no Quidditch practice for the next four days. I've not seen any books in the library that make me tingle." He leaned back on the couch, and closed his eyes. "So, yeah, I'm bored."

"I'm glad you're working hard."

"You aren't listening to a word I say, are you?"

"Moonstone, ground finely."

"Did I mention that my nose is on fire? And I have fifteen wild nifflers down my trousers?"

Hermione bit the end of her quill, then carried on writing. "Swish and flick."

"They're drawing obscene caricatures on my inner thigh. You feature heavily in them. Which is interesting, because I'm not sure the human spine can flex like that."

"Win-gar-dium, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"I've decided that, once you hit 16, I'm going to tattoo 'Property of Harry Potter' on your right buttock."

"Check Hogwarts: A History, I'm sure it's in there."

Harry rolled his eyes, and crossed his legs, one resting on his knee. He started rolling the top of his sock up and down, forming a ring around his leg. A sudden itch on the underside of his foot made him glance around quickly before pulling his shoe and sock off, scratching the itch. Looking down, he saw his abandoned sock in a ball on the floor, rolled up firmly and compactly.

Philosophically, a thought is said to be a pattern matching exercise, trying to match current events to previous experiences. Biologically, a thought is a chemical process inside the frontal lobe of the cerebral cortex. In terms of Hogwarts, though, Harry had just had a testicle-pinger of an idea; a new sport that would shake the foundations of the Wizarding World for centuries to come; Sock Quidditch.

"Hermione, if you need me, I'll be in the library. If you don't need me? Probably still be in the library." Realising that the dramatic phrasing had wheedled down to a whine, Harry shrugged, and disappeared. Hermione, finished with her paragraph, looked up, noticing the empty chair next to her.

"Harry?"

After an hour in the library with 'Quidditch through the Ages', a quill, parchment and Pince with a weird look on her face, Harry was ambling down the fifth floor corridor, just past the Charms classroom, where the twins had commandeered a collapsed tunnel as their own personal common room."Gentlemen, and I use that term very loosely, are you in there?"

"Ickle Harrikins!"

"What can we do for you?"

Harry wandered down the darkened passage, and sat down in front of the twins, who appeared to be messing around with a tube and a pile of grey powder.

"I need help, boys. Weasley help."

"No worries, Harry-"

"-How can we help?"

"I need you to have a word with your Quidditch team. I've got a suggestion, and I get a feeling that Ollie isn't going to listen to me, especially if he hears 'Harry wants to suggest something to you'. How long did it take for him to come out of the locker room after our game?"

"About an hour. He seemed kinda nervous, and unhappy about sitting on his broom."

"How curious..." Harry cleared his throat. "Anyway, I've had an idea, and I'd like the opinion of Hogwarts' premier mad scientists and miscreants to help me out."

"We're in!"

"Er, guys, you don't even know what I'm asking."

"True. Still, we're in."

Harry smiled as he held up his parchment, and pointed out what he'd written. "What do you think about this?"

Harry had one more thing he had to do before his plans came to fruition. Even though he'd decided to not rescue Sirius yet, he'd still make sure that the man had adequate resources while he was locked into Azkaban. As such, he'd been down to the kitchens, got a basket full of food, and snuck away to Hogsmeade to pick up a small parcel.

Back in his dorm, he wrote a note, before pulling out a pebble he'd picked up on the walk back. With a moment of concentration, he tapped his wand, "Portus", and dropped it onto the back.

"Activate!" With the command, the basket vanished into a trail of light. "Hang in there, Sirius." He said softly. "We'll get things sorted soon."

In the retirement home for the criminally insane, a large black dog was sitting on his haunches, licking something he couldn't reach when human. (A/N: Come on... we all know Sirius would do that.) He heard a spinning sound, and had to stamp down the urge to bark loudly. No point in hiding as an Animagus if I'm gonna let the bloody Dementors know about it. He thought idly, as a picnic basket materialised in his cell. Without thinking, he changed back to Sirius, plucking the note off the top.Dear Padfoot, 

Happy Birthday! I know I said that things were going to get better. He's a start for you. Enclosed in this package are some new clothes, some good food, and even a small birthday cake. 

I trust that you listened to my last note. Sirius will be getting too weak to last. Padfoot needs to take control. 

By the way, I'm having problems with my crossword. Can you help? 

Stripeclaw 

Sirius opened the parcel, ignoring the new clothes, heading straight for the cake. Chocolate! He bit down, feeling the chocolatey goodness melt on his tongue. It's still warm... my god! It took seconds for the cake to be demolished, before he started on the rest. After he was finished, he looked up out of his window, seeing the Dog Star shining brightly. Thank you, Stripeclaw. I hope someday I can repay you for this.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen!" Lee Jordan sat at a small table, a piece of parchment in front of him. "Welcome to the exhibition game of Sock Quidditch, created by Harry Potter of Ravenclaw. A brief description of our new sport, before I announce tonight's game."There are six Quidditch games played per season here at Hogwarts, each House playing three games, and the winner of the Cup is decided purely on points scored. The average game lasts 73 minutes, and the average winning score is 230 points. House Quidditch players have an average school career of 4 years, and roughly 6 players go from each graduating year in to professional Quidditch." He put the parchment down, and looked at the assembled audience of about 100 people, a collection of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. "However, for hardcore Quidditch fans, 6 games a season isn't enough, so we need more.

"Now, let me explain the differences between the two sports. In Sock Quidditch... Oh, and to Harry, I'm sorry, but I'm going to end up calling it Squidditch." Everyone suddenly swallowed a laugh as a high-speed black sock ball hit Lee directly in the face. "Anyway, Sock Quidditch," he pronounced the words clearly, "features the same team structure; 3 Chasers, 2 Beaters, 1 Keeper and 1 Seeker. The Quaffle is used to score goals, each goal being worth 1 point. There is only a single goal, which is a one-metre square, and Chasers aren't allowed in that coloured semi-circle in front of the goal. The Beaters don't use bats but tubes, which attract the two Bludgers, and then fire them out; if the Beater hits the Chaser, they'll have to drop the Quaffle, and will not be able to pick it up again until somebody else has touched it. The game is played on foot, and, in case any Slytherins have managed to sneak in here on the sly, this is a non-contact sport. The game plays until the snitch is tagged. The seekers for the team have to hit the snitch with a colour-change spell, the colour indicating which side has won. No wands are permitted in the game, except for the seekers, who are using special wands that can only fire colour-change spells."

Lee looked at his parchment, then smiled. "Sounds confusing, folks, but trust me when I say, watch the game, and then you'll understand. Tonight's game is an exhibition game, and a grudge match between the Captains. Firstly, the Lion's Pride: Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood! Chasers Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson! Beaters Fred and George Weasley! And Seeker, Cormac McLaggen!" The Gryffindor Quidditch team came out of the crowd, and formed up around Oliver, all dressed in red t-shirts. "And their opponents, Potter's Secret Seven!" Jordan flinched as another sock hit him in the face. "Damn it, Harry!" He shook his head. "Sorry, their opponents, Norfolk Enchants: Captain and Seeker Harry Potter! Chasers Padma Patil, Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom! Beaters Hermione Granger and Nym-" A sudden growl echoed across the pitch. "Beaters Hermione Granger and Tonks! And Keeper Blaise Zabini!" The six first years trooped out with Tonks, who, at her disguised 5'2", was about the same size, all dressed in white t-shirts, ready to face their older, faster and considerably stronger competitors.

"Granger? You've got the buck-tooth bookworm on a Quidditch team?" Ron Weasley elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. "And a Slytherin?"

Harry was about to launch in to a tirade about Ron's prejudice, his rampant stupidity, his disgusting eating habits and anything else he could think of (and, to be honest, there was plenty), when all four Beaters raised their tubes and shots practice Bludgers at Ron, the Weasley boys hitting him in the face, the girls hitting him a little lower down.

"Anyway, our referee for the evening is Professor Flitwick, who very kindly agreed to spend his time away from the seedy underworld of Hogwarts' staff gossip to assist Harry and Hermione with enchanting the equipment for this evening. On a technical note, the plan this evening was to use actual socks. Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore objected to us using his Christmas presents for a sporting event, so we're using something called Squashed-" Frantic whispering was suddenly heard. "Sorry, Squash balls as Bludgers and the Snitch, and a red ball called a 'basketball' for the Quaffle. Now, ladies and gentlemen, will you all please stand for the Hogwarts school song!" Four Beater's tubes were suddenly pointed at Lee Jordan, who decided that cowardice was better than being hit in the face with a hard rubber ball or four. "Then again, we all know the school song. Places, please."

The two teams went to their ends, with Harry and Oliver meeting in the middle for the pre-game handshake. "Ready, Potter?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry held his hand out, and smiled as Wood gripped his hand hard. Harry, not to miss out on an opportunity to distract and irritate his opponent, rubbed his thumb over Oliver's knuckles, mumbling to himself. "Such lovely soft hands..."

Wood jerked his hand away and shuffled backwards towards his own goal, before one of the Weasleys approached him. Harry smiled as he overheard "...just trying to distract you. Focus, Ollie!"

The whistle blew, and suddenly the Quaffle bounced off the floor high in to the air, where Angelina, utilising her extra four inches of height, snatched it out of the air, throwing it in a long, loping pass to Katie, who started to run forward, the Quaffle tucked securely under her arm. A dead-eye shot from Hermione made her drop the ball, and she could only watch Padma, moving with the speed of a striking cobra, scooped up the loose ball, and started to run down the pitch, dribbling the ball, basketball style.

This was Norfolk Enchants' strategy; two Muggle-raised students who had both been forced to play basketball in junior school in PhysEd classes, and were used to using the ball like Michael Jordan. A bounce pass across to Susan, immediately bounced over to Neville, and Longbottom's head-down sprint towards the goal ended up with a powerful shot, that Wood just managed to stop.

Luckily for the Lion's Pride, Katie Bell was Muggleborn, and was able to appreciate how sneaky Harry was; if either of the Weasleys hit the Quaffle while it was being dribbled, it wouldn't count as a drop, but she had played both Basketball and Netball in school, and therefore stormed past Susan, taking the dribbled ball out of her hand, and passing it to Angelina, who tucked it under her arm, running forward, Alicia barely a meter behind her.

Tonks managed to clip the Quaffle with her Bludger, but Alicia scooped up the loose ball, launching a spear of a shot that sailed past Blaise.

"One-nil to the Lion's Pride!" Lee Jordan sounded jubilant that Gryffindor had taken an early lead, especially against a Ravenclaw captain and a Slytherin Keeper. "Zabini's beaten with a rocket shot from Spinnet."

Harry, standing next to Blaise, clapped him quickly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Lucky shot."

"Easy to say when they've got Wood at their end."

"Let's see them do that again." He ran through the list of tactics he'd assembled with his team through their training sessions, and smiled to himself. "Pinball!"

Blaise nodded, and launched the ball towards Susan, who immediately shot it to Neville, who ran maybe two paces before firing it at Padma. The rapid fire passing meant that the three younger chasers didn't make much distance up the field, but it was difficult for the Lions' Chasers to get anywhere near the Quaffle. Harry saw his moment; his Chasers were ready, their Chasers were out of position, and both Hermione and Tonks had the Bludgers. "Break!"

His three Chasers shot forward, the lightening-fast running that 11 and 12-year-olds are capable of. Neville faked a shot, drawing Oliver out of position, and bounced it to Padma, who scored a gentle, underarm shot. She curtsied to Oliver, and then ran back, giggling.

"One-all, and a smooth move there by the Enchants. How will the Pride deal with this?"

"Time out!"

"Time out called by the Lion's Pride!" Flitwick blew his whistle while bouncing up and down, clearly having far too much fun for a school night.

Oliver was surrounded by his team-mates, who were already sweating, unused to the physical running that this version entailed. "Okay, ideas, anyone?"

George Weasley was leaning on his tube, looking pensive. "No. We can't use the Bludgers to distract them, and their passing is pretty accurate." He snorted. "They've not played real Quidditch, so they're able to adapt better."

"Okay. Angelina, take the ball. Run at them. Alicia, you'll be in front of her, screening her from view. Katie, you go behind, ready to scoop up the loose ball. Cormac, any sign of the snitch?"

McLaggen just shook his head. He was the least in shape of all the players, and was already panting, red in the face and looking hopeful that medical attention was lined up at the after-game party. Or, at least, a nice bottle of oxygen.

"Right then, let's show these kids some Gryffindor pride!"

The team broke, and Wood launched the ball straight to Angelina, and the three of them began a close-knit charge down the pitch.

Harry had expected this tactic, was one he had practiced himself, and had developed the perfect counter for.

"Claws! Punch and slide!"

Hermione nodded, scooping up a loose Bludger, firing it at the Quaffle. While the ball was dropping, Padma slid, feet first, underneath Angelina's arm, catching the Quaffle, before passing it to Susan, who, with Neville in support, was offered a free pitch, with only one Weasley guarding it. A quick pass to Neville, only a fraction of a second before the Bludger would've hit, left Neville one-on-one against Wood, who, this time, did not manage to make the save.

"Two-one to the Enchants, and it looks like Potter is more than able to match Wood, tactic for tactic. Come on, Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan looked puzzled for a moment, and then realised what was wrong; McGonagall wasn't berating him for showing favouritism. Cool!

The crowd, by the point, were starting to get more vocal, as they realised that, while it wasn't regular Quidditch, it was fast, it was fun, and it was something you could cheer about. Except for Ron, who looked outraged as this... Sacrilege!

"Puffs! Artillery!"

Susan was already charging down the pitch, behind Angelina, who looked baffled at the fact that she wasn't being closely marked. Tonks shot the first Bludger at Johnson, who dodged, straight in to the path of the second Bludger that Hermione had passed to Tonks. Susan scooped up the dropped ball and shot, which Wood caught. A long high pass, over the heads of everyone, landed the ball in Katie's waiting arms, and she shot, scoring passed a surprised Zabini.

"Two-all, a magnificent breakaway from the Lions, and now we're seeing some tactical acumen from both captains."

The sudden blast of a white spell distracted everyone for a moment as Harry was trying to nail the Snitch, which had finally come out of hiding. The Snitch, moving extremely quickly, dodged the spell, and then vanished up towards the ceiling. In the momentary distract, Angelina managed to intercept a pass, and scored against Blaise, leaving them 3-2 in front. The game progressed for another ten minutes, leaving the score at 6-3 for the Lion's Pride, with another impromptu session of both Seekers taking pot-shots at the Snitch.

"Time out!"

Flitwick blew his whistle. "Time out for the Enchants."

"You know, I helped with the charming of that damn thing, and I'm still surprised at how fast it moves. How we doing out there?"

Hermione was breathing hard, unused to the physical activity. Even so, her aim with her Bludgers was scarily precise. "I'm knackered. I'm not built for running, I'm built for reading."

Neville, red in the face, nodded. While he was a slightly podgy boy, the baby fat was covering a layer of slab-like muscle, honed through years of wrestling plant-pots in to submission. "It's impossible to get a ball past Wood. Got the grace of a cat with the eyes of a hawk."

"Harry, get the Snitch. With all due respect, you guys can't compete with kids a few years older than you for much longer." Tonks, her hair white to match her team, hefted her Beater tube. "Plus, the Weasleys are getting better at blocking the Bludgers. It's going to get away from us without the Snitch."

"Time!"

The players all got back in to position, and Tonks was proven correct; the stamina and longer legs of the older players soon started to show how conditioning won matches, as the Lions were winning 9-5 when the Snitch was spotted. Harry saw it before McLaggen and shot three spells at it, watching as the Snitch danced out of the way. It shot towards the Enchants' goal, and Harry chased after it, tripping over, ironically, Tonks, before he landed painfully on the floor. From his prone position, he nailed the snitch, which had just ducked a red spell from McLaggen.

Flitwick blew his whistle, and then fell off the platform he was standing from, the excitement too much for him.

"And that's it! It's over! Norfolk Enchants wins 20-9!" Lee Jordan blew out a breath. "Well, folks, I don't know what you were expecting today, but I don't think that was it."

Harry wandered over to the announcer's table, rubbing his bruised elbow gently. "That, ladies and gentlemen, was Sock Quidditch. What we'd like to do is arrange an informal league, open to all houses, all years. All you need is 7 people, from any house, and we can play. Since this isn't a school-sponsored event, I'd like to get an Underground Quidditch League set up. We'd need at least 6 teams for that, but I'd like more; in a school with about 400 people, we should be able to rustle up at least 10 or so. Are you in?"

A cheer erupted from the crowd, and two new teams signed up then and there; Cedric Diggory's 'Beware of the Badgers', and Eddie Carmichael's 'The Talons'. The rest of the crowd promised to talk to their housemates as they left, leaving the two teams, Lee Jordan and Flitwick left in the room.

"Well played, Lions. Oliver? Good game, man. And I'm sorry if I make you nervous."

Oliver laughed. "It's okay. I have to say, it's a good way of distracting people; trying to ignore same-sex come-ons from an 11-year-old do kind of catch your attention." He shrugged. "You played well. Guess we'll just have to wait for a league game for use to get our revenge."

Harry laughed and nodded, and they all left, heading back to their common rooms. It had been a good day.